


When The Spinning Stops

by Guardian_Rose



Series: A String Of Moments Makes A Life [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic, or I guess maybe platonic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-19 18:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19137964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardian_Rose/pseuds/Guardian_Rose
Summary: Crowley is taking his sweet time in waking up, fingers tugging at Aziraphale’s pyjamas in an attempt to make him lie back down again.“Crowley,” he shakes Crowley’s shoulder, the demon is now trying to bury his face in Azirphale’s thigh, “wake up, my dear.”“Piss off.” Is Crowley’s eloquently hissed reply, his grip around the angel’s waist loosens though.---A direct continuation of "Reluctant"





	When The Spinning Stops

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crowfether](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowfether/gifts).



> Thank you to Crowfether for the prompt! 
> 
> "Are you gonna write a 2nd chapter after Aziraphale wakes up (possibly still snuggled up to Crowley)?"
> 
> Posted in a separate fic rather than a second chapter as it can be read separately to "Reluctant".

Aziraphale wakes slowly. Everything’s very warm. His body feels lethargic and heavy. Very heavy. It takes an awful lot of willpower to open his eyes. Having done so, it takes an utter lack of conscious willpower to try and bolt upright only to be hindered by an arm thrown across his waist and the body still trying to cling to his. It’s also with no small amount of trepidation that he waits for his head to start spinning again. When it doesn’t he sighs in relief and actually starts to piece together what he’s missing from...he glances at the clock on his bedside table, all of yesterday. He vaguely remembers the demon currently stirring next to him coming into the bookshop. Remembers being pulled to his feet and then the sofa. Then that’s sort of it. Crowley is taking his sweet time in waking up, fingers tugging at Aziraphale’s pyjamas in an attempt to make him lie back down again.

 

“Crowley,” he shakes Crowley’s shoulder, the demon is now trying to bury his face in Azirphale’s thigh, “wake up, my dear.”

 

“Piss off.” Is Crowley’s eloquently hissed reply, his grip around the angel’s waist loosens though.

 

“No, I truly think you ought to wake up now, Crowley.” 

 

Crowley’s growl is muffled but he eventually rolls onto his back, all points of contact with Aziraphale severed. Which leaves the angel feeling rather cold in a not-so-literal sense. Aziraphale does lie back down now though, on his side so he can watch Crowley rub at his eyes and stretch his limbs out, pushing the duvet down with his feet but Aziraphale doesn’t mind that much. Is used to it. Crowley is wearing one of Aziraphale’s spare pyjama tops over his underwear and that’s it, as Aziraphale find’s out when Crowley rolls back over and twines their legs together. The shirt is big on him. Aziraphale finds he rather likes it.

 

“How are you feeling?” Crowley asks, hushed and still with a decent amount of sleepy gravel in his voice. 

 

“Much better, thank you.” Aziraphale gives into temptation and brushes some of Crowley’s hair out of his eyes; Crowley watches him with slightly widened eyes. “I hope I wasn’t too awful.”

 

Crowley rolls his eyes but smiles back. “Well, you were a bit of a pain to carry up the stairs. Kept shifting and trying to make me let you walk. It’d take a miracle for you to listen to me, I swear.”

 

Aziraphale’s grin is unbearably smug. “A miracle you say?”

 

“Oh shut up. It was an expression.”

 

“Anyway,” Aziraphale says after a sappy moment of soft smiling at each other that he knows Crowley will forever deny happening, “I wanted to say thank you.”

 

Crowley waves a hand that’s then dropped into the small space on the mattress between them, Aziraphale covers it with his own. “Don’t mention it. You can just owe me.”

 

“I owe you lunch as well then.”

 

“We’ll figure that out later. Sleep now.”

 

Aziraphale lets Crowley settle himself again. The demon is practically an octopus. Always trying to hold onto Aziraphale in as many ways as possible. It’s deliriously sweet. Aziraphale summons a book from downstairs, frivolous miracles are practically his forte at this point, and makes his peace with staying in bed for another couple of hours. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> No beta, all mistakes my own
> 
> Prompts welcome here and on my writing tumblr [WordToTheRose ](https://wordtotherose.tumblr.com/) or come say hi on my main [Guardian-Rose-Petal](https://guardian-rose-petal.tumblr.com/)


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